Chapter 95
Chapter 95
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: How Shall I Earn Money?
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I spend a long time lost in thought on the bed in my dorm room, which I've returned to after so long. There's only one subject on my mind.
How am I going to make money?
I've earned quite a bit from serializing web novels, but I'm starting to hit a wall. That's because good stories are getting harder to come by.
‘Of course, if I rummage through the Ming Empire or the Holy Empire, I might find a few more... but it's too dangerous. Even if I take that risk, there's a high chance I won't get anything worthwhile out of it.’
It was a disaster brought on because most of Ardania's key metropolises were concentrated around warp points.
Of course, it's not like I have zero income right now.
[Hello, Author! ^^ This is Green Dragon Publishing.]
Please check the attached e-book settlement statement.
Take care of your health in this sweltering weather,
And keep writing great stories!
Royalties have come in.
‘Right. I originally wrote web novels for these royalties anyway.’
[Killians Author - July Settlement Statement]
There was a bunch of miscellaneous info, but the important part was the settlement amount at the bottom.
Settlement Amount: 4,182,000 won
Four million won.
Compared to my pitiful early results, it was a remarkable achievement. Of course, stories with a medieval vibe like those from Ardania didn't appeal to modern readers hardened by all sorts of media, but with a tiny niche fanbase and my insane output volume, I was generating enough income from writing alone to get by.
“......”
But no smile crosses my face. I close my eyes.
‘Not enough.’
Just enough to “get by” won't cut it for playing Revenge. Especially not in my position, leading tens of thousands—no, hundreds of thousands—of people.
To put it bluntly, four million won is gone after pulling four hundred Class Cards. I would've been satisfied back then, but not anymore. Now that I hold a Mythic Castle and have declared an empire, that amount of money isn't even enough to properly build defensive structures.
“Ah, those suspiciously loaded sponsors have completely ruined my sense of money.”
But it's too late—the situation is set. I can't shrink my spending habits back down. Somehow, I need to generate revenue that matches my current spending.
“There are two ways.”
The first is to aim for another encyclopedia jackpot.
In other words, go for the big one-time score.
The mysterious sponsors seem to favor works with major historical significance or ones that take huge effort to produce, so even if it's risky, I could head out myself or send people to procure them.
For example, the [Bible of Light] from the Holy Empire, the [Grimoire of Magic] from the Golden Mage Tower, the [Tome of the World Tree] from the Crystal League, or the [Iron Flame Engineering Manual], and so on.
They'd naturally be hard to obtain, but if I manage it, I could get billions in sponsorships, just like with the encyclopedia—maybe even more.
I don't know the sponsors' identities, but they seem like transcendent beings free from budgets. If they like the work, they'll throw down massive sums without hesitation.
‘But... it's too reliant on luck.’
Their criteria are just my guess. What if I go through hell to snag the Iron Flame Engineering Manual, spend ages transcribing it, and all I get is a few million in sponsorship—or nothing at all? I can't complain to anyone. No one promised me anything.
‘There's another way.’
The second is to write stories that would sell in the modern world. Not me writing them, but cultivating literati to do it.
We're dungeon-delving so much that food, clothes, luxuries, weapons—everything's pouring in, turning the entire nation into a warrior race these days.
Naturally, not everyone is cut out for combat. There must be people lacking in aggression, with literary talent instead of battle sense. If I sponsor them and teach them modern writing techniques to produce works?
This isn't luck. It's bound to yield solid results.
‘The problem is it takes too long.’
If I hopped in a time machine, kidnapped Shakespeare from the past, and made him read about 10,000 web novels, he'd probably crank out modern-friendly ones.
But is that going to happen overnight? The worldviews underpinning modern web novels and past works are fundamentally different.
“Ah! My head hurts, seriously!”
I get up from my seat. I head into my private shower, wash up, and apply lotion. No matter how much my head aches, I have to move.
Because there's a third way.
“Hello!”
“Good morning!”
I nod vaguely to the greeting staff as I pass, and someone comes running up to smack my back.
“Hey, you punk!”
Thwack!
The stinging pain makes me grimace involuntarily. Realizing I almost counterattacked, I rein in my emotions and turn around.
“......What?”
Even though I asked as calmly as possible, the peerless handsome man, Seongjae, twitches his eyebrow and scolds me.
“What? What do you mean what? Hey, how are you gonna brush off staff greetings like that? How much filming have we done for you to catch actor syndrome already?”
“......Ah.”
His words snap me back, and I look around.
The staff who had greeted me brightly now wear awkward expressions.
‘Oops......’
My mistake. A side effect of spending too long in Ardania. People prostrating at a mere glance, thrilled at a nod—living like that made me lose my civilian manners.
I apologize quickly.
“Ah, sorry. I was lost in thought.”
“Ah, yeah......”
Still a cold response. Well, I didn't ignore them—I nodded as I passed—so it's natural.
“Whew! This happens to all rookies! Sorry, so sorry! I'll educate him properly!”
Seongjae's bright smile makes the staff blush.
“No, don't go overboard. You're embarrassing me. It's not like I was power-tripping.”
“It's fine, it's fine.”
Seongjae smooths over the awkward atmosphere with a smile, sends them off, and drags me to the cafeteria.
“Good morning, everyone!”
“Oh, Seyeon noona. That blouse looks pretty.”
“Heinz hyung! Did the footage come out nice?”
“Sakura-ssi! Those giants yesterday were terrifying. I nearly screamed!”
Maybe because I got chewed out once, I notice Seongjae's usual behavior anew. A top-class actor, yet kind and warm to everyone. Surprisingly, he seems close to most of the set.
Sure, his over-friendliness sparks rumors everywhere, but few dislike him. He must be a pro at relationships.
Clack.
Seongjae sets down his plate of food and speaks.
“What's up?”
“What do you mean?”
“No, your attitude flips overnight for no reason? Be careful, kid. You're an entertainer now. You're just spreading your wings—if a personality controversy blows up, it'll stick to you like a tail your whole career. And with your sharp eyes, you're already at risk! You look pissed even when you're just stone-faced!”
His unusually stern tone carries the weight of a top star. Young as he is, he's a veteran who started acting at five. He outclasses me in experience here.
“Sorry.”
Knowing that, I apologize immediately. I know I'm an emperor in Ardania, not on Earth, but I messed up anyway.
“Nah, you don't owe me an apology.”
“And thanks. I nearly made a big mistake.”
Truth be told, I'm not that ambitious about acting. It's more like, ‘Huh, it's more doable and fun than I thought.’
But in my money-making pinch, being a movie actor is a great option. Unlike the first two, it doesn't require trips to Ardania—the third way.
Naturally, I don't want to lose it or cause issues.
“......Good, you get it. At least you own up—that's promising.”
Seongjae shrugs and starts eating.
I dig in heartily too.
Not quite six-star hotel level, but set catering is delicious.
“Anyway, you got something worrying you?”
“Money worries, what else.”
Seongjae laughs at my words.
“The worry of every modern man. Want me to spot you some?”
I nearly light up but hold back. Ironically, it's because I need too much money.
‘I don't even know how much I need.’
I'm not in a ‘this exact amount’ spot. If I go all-in, it's bottomless—literally pouring money endlessly.
Borrowing for that, not investments or business, is way too risky.
“It's not something that gets fixed that way. Just... wondering what I should do to boost my earnings going forward.”
I grab my plate and get more fried chicken.
Crunch.
‘Ah...... perfect.’
The taste of modern cuisine I'd forgotten for so long.
The imperial chefs are skilled, but limited ingredients and seasonings cap their results.
As I savor that brief joy, Seongjae says in disbelief.
“But seriously, if it's money, you got no reason to worry, right?”
His unexpected words make me set down the chicken. Money talk is as sacred as chicken.
“......Why?”
“You're on running guarantee, aren't you? With my near-40 years in the game...”
Seongjae slurps udon from a small bowl and grins.
“This movie's gonna blow up for sure.”
“......”
Only then do I look around. Costume team dressing actors, makeup artists at work, stuntmen rehearsing, mages shaping phantasmal shards into monsters—while a monster-molding team of mages tweaks them, grip team with over ten camera types dashes for better angles.
All these people—way beyond average talents, packed with high-rankers. And this isn't even on Earth; it's a sub-dimension, with top-grade materials all around.
‘Come to think of it...... how much cash does it take to pull this off?’
I'd never pondered the full production cost. Makes sense—I'm just a cog, not the manager.
But they're spending this insane scale and expect even more back?
“Jaeyeon! You're here? Finally, your last shoot.”
Director Allen greets me. Sleep-deprived with sunken eyes and pale face, yet his gaze is piercing—enough to overwhelm most on sight.
“Yeah. Last one.”
“Ah! Time's too tight. So damn packed. Phantasia's great, but the time limit sucks!”
He yells, tossing me the script.
‘Side scripts in a movie? Wild.’
I skim it with a wry smile. The finale: my character Dogeom rescues slaves from his home planet—his empire, where he was crown prince.
Dogeom, poised to become fleet commander of the mighty Basara space pirates—stronger than most empires—has his life upended by sudden events.
A genius fit for the galaxy's top academy. Entangled with Hye-seon, who looks like a palace lady but wields immense power.
Swept into a massive storm, he navigates chaos unwillingly.
Gods, demons, space monsters, and Nameds clash in asura field.
As the movie nears end, Dogeom faces a choice.
Shut your eyes once—just once—and claim the fleet command he's craved.
But to do so, abandon hundreds of slaves amid space monsters and flee.
“Who the hell are you! I don't know, so get lost!”
A ragged man aims a laser rifle threateningly.
“I'm......”
I start my line but hesitate.
‘Is this right?’
Dogeom does feel guilt toward his empire and subjects—hints in scenes I've shot.
But I, Dogeom, wasn't raised emperor. His roots as crown prince, but most life as ruthless space pirate.
Even if he kept some morals amid barbarity for decades, suddenly swaying crowds with heartfelt speech feels off.
“W-what! Why are you staring like that!”
The supporting actor ad-libs in panic.
He's probably cursing inwardly. This isn't a scene we can cut for flubs midway.
Thud thud thud thud!
Thud thud thud thud thud!
“Kieeeek!”
Space monsters emerge from mountains everywhere. Infected Untouchables, each rivaling a Completer in power.
Despite their roars, instead of fleeing, I gaze at the hundreds. My subjects—no one, not even me, would acknowledge.
“Follow me.”
“What're you saying? Who are you to order us!”
Sorry to the freaked-out guy. Would've been better to warn and get permission ahead.
But too late.
“I'll break through the front. Follow.”
“No, who the hell are you?”
“Don't stop running.”
“Who are you!”
I repeat lines. Scene's derailed—I can only spit prepared dialogue, fitting or not.
Crowd murmurs too. Panicking at the unexpected.
In that chaos, I draw breath.
“Behold!”
My superhuman volume shakes space. Murmurs freeze; all eyes on me.
Thud thud thud thud thud!
“Kyaaak!”
Only monster approach sounds fill air—I'd ordered the mages already. I shout again.
“Look at me! I'm no king or leader of yours! I won't cradle or shield you!”
“W-what... what're you...”
I turn my back on the overwhelmed crowd, draw sword. Mouth to blade, I mutter low.
“Cold Qi. Sage Gate. Open.”
Craaaack!
Insane chill rises. Focal Point lets me wield it sans seals, like in Ardania.
“I am!”
I press them.
The savagery of a man born emperor but not raised as one.
“I am the banner!”
Crack!
Ice engulfs my body. Random frost shapes flawless armor instantly. Crowd behind stares blankly.
“Just!”
I, Dogeom, don't persuade them. Fallen empire's crown prince didn't live that way.
“Just follow!”
I spin and charge. Monsters swarm ahead blackly!
“Ah, screw it! Run!”
“Run!”
“Waaaaaah!”
Confused crowd follows. I outpace them, sweeping blocking monsters.
Cheers, screams. Flesh, blood.
‘It's over.’
I swing my sword.
The long shoot was finally ending.
* * *
“......”
Director Allen watches the script-ignoring unfold with no expression change.
When would Dogeom reveal his royal self?
It was Allen's constant worry. When to reveal for max drama? He agonized, scripting the perfect timing: proclaiming emperorship, subjects following out of empire longing.
But now, he realizes.
Dogeom's most perfect royal reveal is.
Not revealing his identity at all.
“This, this is really......”
Veteran of film world, he's seen it plenty. Confident pros dissatisfied with plot or lines pull this often.
Jaeyeon's just one such try. Not some genius complex dialogue.
His lines are honestly worse than the original.
Yet.
“......Cool.”
Not brilliant or eloquent. Raw, rough delivery. But Jaeyeon's aura delivering it.
That presence.
That charisma.
Admiration spills out. No mere good acting could fake it.
“He wasn't like this yesterday...... What the hell happened in one day?”
Allen stares at the screen, entranced.
There stood the emperor.